In here
by Seiliez Wingalas
Summary: He could simply sink beneath that rushing water, disappear from the face of the earth and nothing would change, he was always invisible anyways, he would quickly be forgotten. RUSCAN. Rated M for nudity, snogging, and creepy-ness.


In here, the world won't bring us down,

Our plan has told us.

Out there a lonely boy can drown,

In here we're frozen.

Where did the people go?

My hands are empty.

-"Under the sheets on a Monday night"- Ellie Goulding

X*X*X*X*X

The angry autumn wind rushed by Matthew's ears, loud and howling, droplets of rain pelting his cheeks and hands painfully. He grasped the slippery, icy cold railing behind him, his eyes glued to the rushing water below.

_**Don't do it Matthew! We don't want to loose you!**_

_Who's we?_

There was no reply to the question. And Matthew sighed, knowing the answer, only the voice in his head would care if he died, of course it would, if he died, where would it go?

The voice heard this thought and replied indignantly.

_**Please stop this; you are by far the best incarnation I have had! Who knows what the next may be like, what they will do to our country…**_

_I knew it; you only want me because I'm Canada, eh? You should have thought of that before this! When there was still a chance!_

_**Please, Matthew.**_

_No! I'm sick of only being noticed by the voice in my head! Sick you hear me! SICK!_

Sadly it was mostly true, with the exception of when someone—rarely—needed something from him. People wouldn't even notice that he was gone, if his body was found most likely no one would claim or even be able to identify him… that was why he had chosen to die, he could honestly say—like so few in his position—that if he did this, he would hurt very few people. He could simply sink beneath that rushing water, disappear from the face of the earth and nothing would change, he was always invisible anyways, he would quickly be forgotten.

A flash of lightning lit up the night—strangely lingering—as he took a deep breath, adjusting his grip on the railing and stepped off the edge.

Ivan was driving slowly home, alone, and rather aware of the fact. It had been a long time since his sisters and the Baltic's had left him, but it hurt still. A deep ache in the pit of his stomach, that sometimes sent him reeling.

Perhaps it was fate, for if he had been driving any faster he may not have seen the figure on the bridge, on the wrong side of the railing. He slowed down, nearly screeching to a stop, and leapt out of the car.

_**Vhat are you doing comrade?**_

_I do not truly know myself Russia._

This inner exchange passed quickly as Ivan tried to get the persons attention, but his voice was lost in the roaring of the swollen river and the rushing of stormy winds. Then he saw the slight change in grip, a preparation to release the bar, and bolted forward, reaching out as they took the step and dropped.

Barely in time, his hand closed around a slim wrist, the momentum of their fall dragging him forward until he was bent over the railing, one hand holding himself in place, and the other holding up the weight of their body. He tugged hard and the person—a boy he could now see—was jerked out of some kind of shock, looking up—expression hidden by the darkness of night. His lips moved slightly, his words ripped away and unheard.

His wrist began to slip out of Ivan's grasp, and the Russian man roared out so loudly that it registered even over the rushing of the elements.

"Grab on!" it took no more coaxing for the boy to obey, hand clasping around Ivan's wrist, so tightly that it hurt. Ivan heaved with all his strength, and now that he had a firm grip, it was a simple task to pull the surprisingly light body up, over the rail and into his arms. He was limp, and Ivan realized that he had feinted, why he did not know, but he leaned heavily against the Russian mans broad chest, only supported by his strong grip, all consciousness gone.

Ivan sighed, and scooped up the boy's legs, carrying him bridal style to the idling car. He carefully placed him in the back seat, taking a moment to look at him; his hair was a honey gold color, with a long flyaway hair that stuck up from the part, even as wet as it was. He was…_pleasant_ looking, cute even, and feminine. The Russian started to turn away and close the door when he noticed something…

He reached down and nudged the boy's sleeve upward revealing closely spaced horizontal scars, clearly self-inflicted.

So… this boy's suicide attempt had been a possibility for a long time, had it? Ivan couldn't help but wonder what could have brought him to this… he looked like a friendly, kind person, the sort that would be untroubled by loneliness, or pain… he shook his head as a sudden spell of dizziness and pain whirled over him, he doubled over leaning heavily on the car for support, and breathing unevenly as it slowly faded. _Damn it, it was getting worse, best not to think of such things._ Shutting the door with a click and climbing into the drivers seat, and continuing on his way home, glancing over his shoulder every once in a while to check on the unconscious young man. Now that he thought about it… he was oddly familiar.

Oh well, it didn't matter.

How could he know that soon enough it _would_ indeed matter?

- XXXX -

Warmth. That was the first thing that Matthew noticed as he came slowly to consciousness. That wasn't right… he shouldn't be waking up, he should be lying at the bottom of the river, he should be dead. He should at the very least be _Cold_, but he wasn't any of these things.

It all came back to him. Russia had caught him, _saved_ him, for lack of a better word.

_**Looks like you're alive Matthew.**_

_Shut up._

_**I am glad…**_

_Go away!_

He sunk deeper under the covers of a strange bed, cuddling into a warm pillow and sobbing, even as the pillow—not a pillow, but Ivan as a matter of fact—turned over and wrapped strong, strangely hot arms around his waist.

Matthew gasped at the sudden contact, tensing placing his hands firmly against the Russian man's chest in preparation to push away. But it was so warm, and it had been _so_ long since someone had cared enough to hold him while he wept. So instead he buried his face in the wide, comfortingly there—not to mention reassuringly _clothed_—shoulder, and proceeded to cry his heart out with choked and desperate sobs.

Finally the hysterical sorrow faded and his sobs turned to hiccups and then to calm breathing. He looked up and smiled a tiny shy smile at the bewildered and sleepy looking silver haired Russian.

"Thank you Russia." The silverette abruptly released him; his drowsy look replaced by surprise and suspicion as he leapt out of the bed, his beloved—and bloodstained—water pipe seeming to appear out of thin air and into his hands.

"How do you know me? Who are you? Kolkolkol…" hurt flashed in Matthew's blue eyes, he had toyed for a moment with the hope that maybe Ivan remembered him from a international conference, even just a little bit. Though it was a small, unlikely idea, he had secretly hoped it with every ounce of his sadly pounding heart.

So much for that.

"I-I'm M-Matthew. C-Canada." He said so quietly it was nearly a whisper, his shoulders beginning to shake, and new tears welling.

"Who?" with that well, and over used question Matthew cracked, throwing himself face first into a pillow—a real pillow this time—and bawling wretchedly.

Ivan gave the whimpering blonde a mystified stare, letting his pipe fall into a loose, relaxed position by his side. He hadn't been expecting that kind of reaction to the innocent enough one word query. He felt a little bad about it; he hadn't meant to make him cry… he had been enjoying his warmth in fact…

_**Nyet, this 'Matthew,' he knew our name vithout meeting us, perhaps he iz a spy. Kill him comrade Ivan, and then ve vill not have to deal vith these emotions! Kill him!**_

The voice of Russia urged forcefully in his head, causing him to twitch, his grip tightening on his weapon as he considered it.

_No, Russia. I do not think…_

_**Since ven do ve care? Kill him! He already tried it, da? Vould he care? Nyet, ve think not! kiiiilllll~ Hiiiiimmmmm~…**_

It urged whinier, childish. Tone full of glee.

_No._

_**Vhy?**_

_He… he is brave._

_**Ha! Brave? How iz killing oneself brave?**_

_Death…is a daunting foe… to send yourself into his embrace is brave indeed._

_**Hmm. Perhaps…**_

_He is braver than I._

_**Humph**__.__** Very vell, ve hope you are right comrade Ivan.**_

_Da. Me too. _He thought to himself wistfully as the voice went silent. He stood there uncertainly for a moment, then carefully moved to the bed… pressing all his weight onto one knee and a hand spread wide into the mattress. His other hand hesitantly reached out, stroking into the boy's hair—oh… it had to be the softest material he had ever felt against his skin, it was tempting to run his fingers in it, bury his face in it—just to see if it smelled as good as it felt. Unwittingly he relaxed completely—as he hadn't done in many, many years.

_**Comrade… **_

_Yes?_

_**Ve… ve feel peculiar...**_

_Peculiar? _

_**Da… it iz… perplexing, though not entirely… **_

The voice of Russia trailed off, as if lost in a private thought. Ivan waited for a few moments to see if Russia was planning on finishing the thought, apparently not, for it never continued. With a small shake of his own head Ivan returned to what he was doing, slowly, gingerly stroking Matthew's—that's what he said his name was, right? —Sunflower colored hair.

Matthew slowly stopped crying, more for a lack of anymore tears than from a lack of sadness. Russia didn't remember him… but… he was being so kind. His hand was large and cool as I brushed through his hair, Matthew had expected cruelty, or harsh sarcasm, after all _everyone_ knew how Russia was.

_**M-Matthew… careful… **_

_I-I thought I told you to go away!_

_**I keep feeling Russia. **_

_Well duh!_

_**No, you don't understand, not this man, RUSSIA.**_

_There's a difference…?_

_**Yes! He's got to be planning something, I suggest you get away fast, for the sake of your—**_

Matthew had heard enough; he could tell that Canada was about to start on about the health of his country once again and pushed it forcefully into the back of his mind where he couldn't hear it, isolating it away form his senses. Though it could have easily broken down his defenses, it did not, respecting his need for privacy—it could tell that it was not helping, and its greatest wish was to not push his host any farther towards drastic measures. He didn't want to hear it, he couldn't care less about its opinions at the moment, and he wanted to do something for himself for once, he wanted to—.

Without much thought to what the reaction—though plenty towards the meaning—to his action may be he abruptly flipped over, jumped up, placing his hands firmly on either side of Ivan's face and pulling him abruptly down to capture the Russian's unsuspecting mouth in a burning kiss.

Ivan tensed at the sudden action, his eyes widening and darkening dangerously in surprise, unresponsive for a moment in instinctual foreboding. But as the shock wore off, and when no violence was attempted he slowly relaxed into it, snaking his arms around Matthew's waist and pulling him flush with his own body.

They broke apart gasping for breath and Ivan did not release his hold, keeping him close. Feeling as the blonde's hands clenching handfuls of his coat front, looking down in embarrassment, his face a charming pink.

Matthew breathed deeply, his heart pounding. He wasn't willing to admit it but that had been his first kiss—it was hard to get someone to kiss you when they barely ever noticed you in the first place—and he knew exactly who he had given it to, and what feelings had spurred the spur of the moment decision, though he wasn't sure if it had been entirely suitable.

"I- I'm sorry… that was a bit—" he whispered out, looking up hopefully through long lashes just in time to have his words swallowed by another—considerably more heated—kiss.

He blinked once, twice. Three times, at the unexpected response and then smiled softly against Ivan's quickly warming lips, allowing his eyes to flutter closed.

Ivan parted his lips and let his tongue demand entry. Matthew responded easily, opening without hesitation, allowing Ivan to claim conquest over his moist warmth. Hesitantly dancing in reply against the taller mans forceful advances. Matthew's hands clutched in the front of Ivan's coat, using his broad chest for an anchor against his dizzy-headed response to the Russian's lips.

A certain puzzle piece somewhere deep inside Ivan's mind snapped into place and he remembered who the blonde in his arms was, subconsciously pasting him into a million memory's where before he had been unseen, seeming invisible. He pulled back, ceasing their battle, in which only Ivan went for dominance—though Matthew never became completely submissive—and gasped out breathlessly in recognition.

"Canada… Matteew... Mathi- Mateo-..." he frowned a little "Matvey Williams…" Matthew's blue eyes blinked once and lit up like beacons of exhilaration, joyfully meeting Ivan's amazed violet gaze.

"You remember!" with this cry of jubilation he threw his arms around the taller mans neck and pecked him happily on the cheek, chirpy as a robin in spring. Without thinking he let down the barrier in his mind.

_**So I can come back now?**_

_Yes! _

_**Chipper aren't you? That makes me happy; it wasn't nice seeing you so sad.**_

_Sad is an__Understatement. Complete with capital._

_**Indeed. What did I miss?**_

The way Ivan's arms tightened reflexively around its hosts slim waist was answer enough as Matthew nuzzled softly against his pulse point, causing him to give a sharp sound. Matthew laced his hands around Ivan's shoulders, cupping them around the base of his neck beneath the white scarf still twined around his shoulders and pulling away to give Ivan a sultry half lidded smile.

"Thank you…" Ivan cocked his head to one side slightly in confusion at the sudden and earnest gratitude. He couldn't for the life of him think of what merited such thanks, the bridge thing…?

"For what? The bridge?" Matthew chuckled quietly, moving in closer, until their noses nearly touched, his blue eyes fluttering slowly closed as he brushed his cheek down his jaw line.

"No silly…" the reason ended up being breathed against the Russian mans neck. "Thank you for remembering me."

_**Comrade… you are acting strange… **_

_Am I?_

_**Da. you are being… slow. Vhy are you not making him become one with us? **_

Ivan had to admit, it _was _tempting to just throw Matthew down and take him. Hard. Whether he liked it or not. But… he had kissed him without hesitation… he seemed not to be worried by Ivan at all, and that was different and rare.

_I think… this time I will wait._

_**Shta? Vait?**_

_Yes. Is that bad?_

_**Ve do not know. Ve have never tried before.**_

_Does it feel bad?_

_**Nyet… not bad… just nervous. And varm. Ve… do not mind if you continue this for the time being. It iz… intriguing.**_

Suddenly it came again, sending his thoughts reeling and leaving him to fight for breath, holding himself steady by Matthews shoulders. His grip tightened painfully, making Matthew gasp in discomfort.

_What's wrong with him?_

_**I- I think that he's… sick.**_

_Can you help?_

_**No. But… you can.**_

_How?_

_**Blood. Give him blood. Reopen one of your… **_**wounds,**_** and let him drink.**_

Matthew pulled up a sleeve without hesitation, dug a fingernail under the edge of one of his cuts and ripped it open with a wince, immediately ruby red fluid welled and began to drip over his skin in rivulets.

_Y-your sure?_

_**Yes! Now do it, eh!**_

"I-Ivan?" the larger man growled deep in his throat, his face twisted with pain as Matthew guided Ivan's lips to his wrist with gentle but firm fingers. He ran a bloody fingertip over Ivan's lips, coaxing, and watched with fascination as a pink tongue darted out and lapped at the crimson well. Ivan licked the wound clean gently yet greedily, tasting Matthew's skin to get at every drop. Matthew flinched as an unknown voice sounded in his mind.

_**(Look on the dresser.)**_

_W-who-?_

_**Russia. You're out of bounds.**_

_**(Da, ve know. Vhat iz in the box on the dresser iz the cause of this, get it and return it to him.)**_

_H-how are you-?_

_**(We are not supposed to be here. Your blood vill help, but only a little. He vill need your help. Now go look in the box, da!)**_

_Th-thank you._

_**(We see… slowly…) **_Russia sounded almost thoughtful.

_**Russia…? **_Canada's voice was threatening and cold.

_**(Da, Da. Das vadenias, little one.) **_

Matthew carefully withdrew himself from Ivan's grasp, and crossed the room to the dresser. A forest of Russian labeled bottles littered the top, some empty and some full. And hidden under several was a plain wooden box, of an indiscriminate color of gray, which was… thumping? Hesitantly he reached out, and lifted the lid.

At first he couldn't believe his eyes, there was a severed heart in the box. A severed heart that was still _beating_.

Smooth and glossy as a cherry but struggling to beat against its own lack of moisture. "Return it too him… no problem…" his hand closed around the organ delicately and lifted it from its hard abode. Matthew could feel the pound of each desperately uneven beat against his skin as he cradled it in his palms.

He sat beside a twitching Ivan on the bed, with his heart in his hands and no idea what too do next.

_Um. Canada? What do I do?_

As he spoke fresh red continued to run from his wrist, inching languidly down.

_**I … I do not know… this has never happened before… Russia might-**_

The blood finally reached the cup of his palms and the heart began to suck it up, seeming to expand slightly and becoming a deeper red as it dripped with the fresh fluid.

_Ok… that was a little creepy…_

_**Uh…huh…**_

_Well. Russia said to return it to him, and a heart is supposed to go in your chest so… I suppose I should try putting it back in…_

_**It's worth a try.**_

Matthew carefully set the heart down on the sheets, leaving a sticky red mess on his hands. Nonetheless he struggled to push the man over onto his back, succeeding with a groan and an "Eep!" as he lost his balance and fell forwards across Ivan's body. Finding that the Russian was softer that he would have expected for one who's frame looked to be made of nothing but muscle.

He caught his breath and proceeded to fumble with the buttons on Ivan's long beige trench coat and the dress shirt he wore beneath it, until he had bared a sturdy and well muscled chest and the silvery, sleek and slightly raised scar that marked where his heart should have been. Just a few inches to the left of his breastbone.

_What now?_

_**Put it in.**_

Matthew lifted the pulsing organ and pressed it too the scar with firm force, much to his surprise it sunk in with little resistance. For a moment Matthew's hand was enveloped in damp heat, an unsettling yet pleasant sensation. When he withdrew Ivan groaned and the mark grew back into a smooth unbroken surface.

The Canadian sighed a sigh of relief and petted a little hair out of Ivan's face gingerly. The Russian was thoroughly unconscious now, a sheen of sweat on his brow and an expression of both pain and relief on his face.

-XXXX-

Something didn't feel right. Not pain, no that wasn't it… something just wasn't right. He tried to pinpoint what it was and frowned as he did. It felt as if someone had placed a new weight just in the middle of his chest. More specifically, it felt how he would imagine it would feel to have someone sitting on you. And he was wrong, it _did_ hurt. Whatever it was ached with staggering pain, like it was tearing him apart.

_What- what is wrong with me? _Ivan wondered, unaware that he was broadcasting that question outside of his own personal little corner.

_**I think it iz loneliness… **_something was different about Russia's voice as well; Ivan felt his brow wrinkle.

_Loneliness?_

_**Da. it hurts doesn't it? **_With those words Ivan realized that it was true, it was loneliness… and the pain rose from his chest to his head, trying to find a way to escape from his body, welling against his eyelids.

_I- I do not want to be alone, Russia… _

_**I know. Ve- I can feel it as vell… it iz… excruciating, da…**_

The tears threatened to expose themselves.

"I-Ivan?" the Russian sat up so quickly that his head spun, finally opening his eyes. The tears had been shocked right back into hiding though. Matthew sat on the edge of the comforter, a strange expression on his face. Recently Ivan would have interpreted the mix of emotions as fear, but now he found himself recognizing the parts. It was fear, but more of a concerned fear, and nervousness and hopefulness and just a touch of defensiveness all mixed together as if the young Canadian expected a harsh blow to come at any moment.

"Matvey?" Matthew's entire expression washed away in a smile, a look of warmth that filled him up like- like- the only thing Ivan could compare it too was the feeling of the sun on his skin and the smell of sunflowers wrapped around him all at the same time as a fiery gulp of vodka boiled down into his chest. It was a very, _very_ nice feeling.

He stared at Matthew for a long moment, but made no movement towards him.

"You are still… here?" a look of understanding flowed into the others blue eyes and he crawled further onto the bed, reaching out to lay his hand on top of the Russian's bigger one.

"Yes. I'm still here." Ivan broke. Lunging forward to capture the other in his arms as if he was afraid that the smaller man might turn around and leave him alone at any moment. He buried his face in his shoulder the way that Matthew had only hours before, and the pains ran leaping and cheering to freedom down his cheeks. The release felt as if a million pounds were melting away.

_**Hm. That **_**iz**_** delightful. I like it… so, is **_**this**_** what waiting gets you?**_ Ivan realized what it was that was different about Russia's voice.

_Why are you referring to yourself as 'I' not 'we'? _There was a short silence.

_**Because… now that you have your heart back I am whole again. I am in only one place. **_The words registered in a heartbeat. He pulled away, grasping Matthew's shoulders firmly and staring into his eyes in alarm.

"My heart is back?" Matthew could only nod dumbly, rather stunned by the turn of events. Ivan leapt to his feet; eyes still red, and began pacing about the room, a dark aura of panic wrapped around him in choking strands, wiping the tears impatiently from his cheeks.

"I-is that a bad thing?" Matthew asked timidly when his voice returned to him.

"Da! Da it is a bad thing! He told me too never put it back in or else he would come back and tear it out again! The last time, I lost myself! I do not know what it will do to me this time- there is no way that I can escape from him-"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait. Whois _he_?" the Canadian struggled to catch up with Ivan's out of control train of thought. Ivan stopped mid thought to answer a bit absentmindedly.

"General winter. There is no way I can hide from him. There is no way I can hide _him_ from General winter! Oh no. He loves pretty things, who knows what he would do to little Matvey…" he trailed off as Matthew started laughing.

"What- what is funny? Kolkol-" he was interrupted yet again by a soft kiss to the lips, he felt calm descend over him, if it weren't for Matthew's own calm at that moment then no doubt he would have been a whimpering mess of fear, the only thing that he feared more than Belarus—was General winter.

"Grandfather Frost?" he nodded, sitting down carefully on the edge of the bed, his hands held in Matthew's. "Not to worry, let me speak to him." Ivan tried to protest but Matthew put a finger to his lips and the Russian couldn't find it in himself to argue, he wasn't used to situations where others took charge... Matthews sky blue eyes were limpid and tranquil.

"I know we haven't known each other that long, but have a little faith, 'kay?"

_**Trust him comrade. He held your heart in his hands. **_

_He…did?_

_**Da. He vas very gentle. Trust him.**_

"What is Russia saying?" Ivan jumped. Matthew was looking at him curiously, head tilted.

"Shta? How did you-?"

"You blanked for a minute, like you do in meetings. Creepy smile and all."

"Oh…" Ivan frowned. "He was saying… that I should trust you. That you held my heart in your hands." Matthew blushed a little despite himself. His feet suddenly very interesting.

"I do not mind." Ivan blushed as well. A childish but kind and shy smile spreading over his face. "You held it once… if you wish…you can continue to do so." Matthew blinked. Did he mean carry around a bloody heart in his hands all the time, or-? Oh. Heat blossomed through his entire body, and he opened his mouth to answer.

Before he could reply the building quaked and a familiar voice bellowed.

"_Vher are you leetle Vanya?" _the tone was sickeningly sweet, like the voice of an abusive parent who was furious but was trying to coax their prey from hiding. It seeped through the house, frosting the windows with a blank gray sort of frost and making their breath come in puffs of white fog. Ivan was suddenly, and inexplicably in the far corner of the bed with a pillow hugged to his chest and a look of horror on his face.

Matthew frowned—for some reason this image made his blood boil—and stood to leave the room. Calling out his own greeting.

"Bonjour Grandfather!"

"_Sunshine? Iz that you?"_

"Oui, poppa!"

"_Vhat are you doeeng heer, child?" _Ivan was baffled. With a sound like crinkling paper designs and swirls where trailing through the frost on the windows, making it glitter and sparkle, he had never seem this happen before. He assembled his courage pulling the blanket around his shoulders and traced Matthew's path out the door and towards the top of the stairs. Each step slow and careful. What he saw was surprising, the General had just bent down to kiss Matthew on each cheek, leaving blue frost in his wake.

"_Eet iz so nice to see you again, leetle one. But…Vhat are you doeeng in Vanya's home?"_

"He saved my life, poppa. That is why I am here."

"_Sunshine owes Russia hees life?"_

"Oui, poppa."

"_I owe heem a great debt, then." _Ivan could almost hear Matthew drawing breath before he spoke.

"Great enough too l…too leave him alone forever, grandfather?" the air grew noticeably colder, and ice crystals began to fall from nowhere. The general's eyes were icy blue and seemed to glow as he reached out; grabbing Mathews chin between thumb and forefinger. Ivan heard Matthew gasp and nearly leapt to his feet as the Canadian's lips turned blue.

"_You are lucky I am so fond of your voice, _pretty thing._ If I were not you vould find yourself without that testing tongue of yours." _The cold hiss left Ivan frozen in place, blanket forgotten around his ankles and hands gripping the banister so tightly his knuckles turned white. The General paused, eyes flickering up to where Ivan stood.

"_However. You are right, grandchild. I vill miss my toy; so do not expect a kind vinter thees yeer, Sunshine. But I am _quite_fond of you, you see. So eet shall be done. I vill not _bother_ little Vanya again… I hope you are thankful, child. I am not always so…_kind…_" _he lowered Matthew back to his feet but did not release him just yet.

"_Vanya~. Come and help heem, da. I do not think he vill stand on hees own~" _it was an order hidden under a thin layer of vanilla ice. And Ivan obeyed, taking the stairs two at a time but approaching across the floor cautiously. The general chuckled "_good, you have not forgotten how to obey, leetle soldier." _He leaned forward until Ivan could feel his icy breath on his face. _"He has gone through much for you, Vanya. Take good care of__sunshine. Be good to heem or your heart vill be the last of your vorries, da?" _he dragged a quietly stunned Matthew close, placing a rough kiss on his already frosted cheek and finally released his hold on him.

Pushing him forward so he stumbled into Ivan's chest where he was quickly wrapped in an embrace that seemed boiling compared to the generals stinging grasp. Matthew pressed as close as he could. He needed warmth so badly… Ivan gasped in shock as Matthew's hands opened his coat to press against his bare skin feverishly, desperately trying to get closer to his warmth. General winter chuckled coldly. "_Paka. Stay… _varm." And with that icy pieces of him began rapidly flaking off and dissolving until all that remained were a few lone snowflakes drifting languidly to the floor.

Ivan sighed in relief, and held Matthew's freezing body as close as possible, feeling his icy cheek pressing into his shoulder.

"Matvey… are you alright?"

"C-c-cold…" the Canadian trembled, his teeth chattering. His hands snaked under Ivan's jacket and grasped at his shoulders, and neck tightly. The Russian was just so _warm. _Any touch helped clear the ice in Matthew's veins just a little more. Ivan bent down a little and scooped Matthew up into his arms and began carrying him somewhere. Really he didn't care, all he could think about at the moment was the warmth, preferring too bury his face in Ivan's shoulder rather than watch to see where they were going.

Ivan sat on the edge of the huge tub in his bathroom, Matthew sitting in his lap with his arms around his neck and his face buried in his shoulder. One of his hands came up, running through Matthew's hair with long strokes, combing out tangles even as he turned on the water and tested the temperature of the filling tub with his other hand. Judging it to be just right he pushed Matthew away from himself just enough to tug the younger mans hoodie up over his head and shrug his own coat off. Folding his scarf carefully and placing it on the counter. As soon as this was done the Canadian was back pressing against him, the cold clawing its way from his skin and into Ivan's. Ivan shivered, working on getting his pants off and then on Matthew's with murmured prompting and encouragement.

By the time he managed to get everything off the tub was full and steaming. He couldn't help but freeze for a second as Matthew's legs wrapped around his waist. The feeling of silky-soft skin velvety smooth around his hips. Heat rushed to his face, but he grasped the Canadian's shapely hips 'so he wouldn't fall'—so he told himself—he stepped into the tub, slowly sinking down into the hot water.

Matthew bit his lip to stop from gasping as the heat surrounded him. It soaked into his body quickly and thoroughly making him more aware of the fact that he was currently completely naked, with his body pressed to Ivan's—equally naked—body in a tub of water that was making him feel slick and slippery and vaguely- turned on. He turned red, feeling his blood unfreeze.

A little desperate to get Matthew in a little less of an awkward position given his 'growing' problem, he gently reached up too unlatch his arms. All it got him was a shift and a tightened grip. Then Matthew froze and after a moment pulled away a little to look down in surprise before looking up directly into embarrassed purple eyes.

"V-vanya…? Do you… want…?" the Russian couldn't help but look to his lips as they formed the whisper, they were perfect and glossy and tantalizingly soft looking and his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright and his breath was coming in sweet gasps… he looked like pure lust and oh- yes did he ever want.

Slowly, his hand rose, and slid to tangle in his angel soft hair. He softly tugged and brought their lips together with a staggering sweetness he had never experienced. He was so delicate, so soft, yielding and seemingly vulnerable despite the obvious strength in his supple body. It had been so long since he had held someone close without a plan of action or a desire to do harm or claim, a _very_ long time indeed.

The feeling of his entire body, bare and sensually pressed to every inch of his own was perfect. Matthew's soft hips straddling him were perfect, and his lips- oh god…they were perfect, warm and sweet against his own _perfect_. And he really needed to stop inserting perfect into everything about Matthew before it became permanent. Though… he realized it was becoming increasingly true to him. Matthew _was _perfect.

Sweet and accepting, kind and understanding, and Ivan… needed that. He felt a little ashamed for falling so quickly… but he needed that beauty in his life, that warmth that gentleness and compassion most of all he needed… Matthew. Thinking back he realized it had been this way since the return of his heart. From the moment Matthew had held his heart in his delicate hands he had been hooked.

With a slight tug he broke the kiss watching as Matthews eyelashes fluttered and his gorgeous blue eyes looked at him in a half lidded daze.

"No, not yet Matvey. We will go slow, that is…" He considered the words before he said them, and then decided that he had to say them, no matter what the reaction might be, he just had to know-

"If you will stay with me…?" he wanted to hold his breath but found himself breathing heavily in the aftermath of their kiss as the Canadian studied him for a long silent moment. Completely still with his hips still pressed to every line of Ivan's and his fingers spread widely, pressed to Ivan's chest his eyes were the only part of his body that moved. They flickered over his entire face taking in his nervous expression. Finally he pressed closer to the Russian's body, his back bowing to get even closer as his rosy lips parted in a whisper

"…Yes…"

Ivan's newly returned heart fluttered at the words, filling him up with a new feeling that drove away the pain of loneliness.

Matthew smiled, rubbing a finger over the scars on his wrists and realizing that he no longer needed the company of the blade, he was no longer forgotten.

X*X*X*X*X*X

**OK, my first one-shot, I hope its good! I would like to dedicate this to my readers and scream to the world that 'M sorry for the ending, there will be no lemone meringue pie, sorry~! XD I feel mean…. **

**Fangirls, flamers, grammar Nazi's and all other form of fanfiction organisms are welcome! JUST REVEIWWWWW~!**

**Lurve,**

**~Sai**

**Disclaimer: why. why? why do i have to keep saying this? I DONT OWN ANYTHING! (except the crazy ass idea) so leave me alone... gonna go cry nao... in a corner... alone... in the dark... ALONE. *HISSS*  
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